Bittersweet Charity
by CeliaEquus
Summary: Hermione didn't mean to fall off the platform. What took place would change her life forever; it would give her a new identity, a new life, a new love... and a new death. Epilogue-compliant time-travel story.


"Bittersweet Charity"

Hanging upside down in front of Death Eaters was one of those life experiences Hermione Weasley _really_ could have done without. She was pleading for her life—she had a family, damn it!—but knew that her time was coming. She knew how things had to be, however much it pained her. What hurt even more was that she was leaving behind someone she loved, someone she loved very, very much.

How did it come to this?

It started at Platform 9 ¾.

* * *

The children were setting off now. Albus Severus was going to Hogwarts for the first time. Hermione was enjoying life, that September 1st, 2017. Ginny was hurrying down the platform, waving farewell to her son. Ron let go of Hermione to talk to Harry, so his wife walked over towards the edge to watch the train depart. She didn't notice the pebble that someone had tracked onto the platform. It wasn't very big, but it was smooth. She slipped, and with a cry, tripped.

It may have been worse if she had fallen in _front_ of the train, but it was behind the Hogwarts Express where she landed. A burst of magical smoke and sparks puffed out from the back, engulfing her. She heard nothing, saw nothing.

No one had any idea where she had gone.

* * *

"What the…?"

Hermione awoke with a shake of her head, and she sat up. She saw the back of the Hogwarts Express, and raised her eyebrows. What on earth was going on?

Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted magically, and shrieked quietly. What a strange sensation! Poor Ron. Poor Professor Snape! Now she knew how it felt to be in the air with neither visible nor tangible means of support. How long had she been out? And who was th…

"Here you are," Severus Snape said, placing Hermione on the floor of the platform. He held out a hand, and she took it meekly. Oh, sweet Circe. She was dead, wasn't she? Her children were now without a mother. Severus helped her stand, steadying her with one hand on the waist. "Next time you should be more careful. How in Hades did you get there?" He was scowling at her now, and Hermione felt almost right at home.

"I tripped," she said, feeling dazed. She swayed a bit, and Severus gripped one of her wrists.

"Well, don't fall off again," he said sharply. "You'll just do more damage."

"The train's here," she said, blinking slowly.

"Obviously," he replied, tracing her body with his eyes. "Bright one, aren't you? Well, better board the train."

"Of course," she murmured. Maybe this train would take her to heaven… or wherever. She felt the need to apologise to her former professor, but didn't have a chance as he hauled her along to a door of the train. With a gentle shove from behind, he propelled her up the steps and inside.

"Where's your trunk?" he asked, and she almost laughed.

"Didn't bring it with me, I'm afraid," she answered jovially, trying to mask her fear. She couldn't remember dying, and was almost annoyed about it. After all, she _was_ the Gryffindor know-it-all, with her obsession for collecting as much information as possible, and experiencing new things. Well, of course she hadn't wanted to experience death for decades to come; but she should have known better. Even if times were less dangerous these days, there were dangers everywhere. She followed the potions master into a compartment, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw that she was still with him.

"Well?" he said. "Can I help you?"

Sarcastic, even in the afterlife, she thought, and she rolled her eyes. "What a companionable person you are," she remarked. "Why shouldn't I stay with you? You can tell me more about where we're going."

"Well, if we're going to be sharing the same compartment," he said, his eyes narrowing, "you'll be wanting to clean up. A lot."

"I beg your…"

"You've got dirt on your nose," he said, and he smirked. "Among… other places." Hermione looked down, and realised what he meant. She was filthy from being on the tracks, and being hit with a face full of magical train smoke.

"Thank you for warning me," she said, mustering as much dignity as she could. This amused Severus, and he stretched out by the window, resting his feet on the seat opposite. He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to challenge him, but she just left with another roll of her eyes. She'd… _speak_ to him about it upon her return.

Passing by some other windows, Hermione saw the lady with the food trolley in one of the compartments. Wasn't that Professor Sprout with her? Yes, Professor Sprout had passed away, but that was a number of years ago. Was there no concept of time here? And she didn't recall the trolley witch dying. She hadn't even retired from her duties yet. In fact, she had been boarding the Hogwarts Express last she saw…

"Oh!" the witch said, opening the compartment door. "Have you seen Professor Snape?"

"H-he's down there," Hermione said, pointing down towards their compartment.

"Thank you," she replied. "I have to take him his _Prophet_. Otherwise he'll be in a foul temper."

"May I just have a quick look?" Hermione asked, wondering why on earth _The Daily Prophet_ would be in… wherever she was. Maybe it said something about her death.

"He wouldn't like it," Professor Sprout called from behind the trolley lady. "You can have a look at mine in a moment."

"Here, have mine," the trolley witch said, handing hers over.

"I just wanted to see the headline," Hermione admitted. "I'm sure Professor Snape will allow me to look at his after he's finished with it."

The two witches looked at each other disbelievingly.

"Good luck with that," the trolley witch muttered. "Here. You can look at mine."

"Thank you," Hermione said, and she took the paper in hand.

Sirius Black? Why was it about Sirius Black? Frowning, she glanced at the date.

July 16th, 1993. What on earth was going on?

She shakily thanked the witch, and handed it back. She hurried to the bathrooms, and warded the door behind her. Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Thanking every god in the heavens, she washed her face off. It had been completely covered with soot, and her hair was almost black. Clearly, the witches had been to tactful to say anything. They may have even seen what had happened.

"Wake up, Hermione," she whispered, and she pinched her arms. Repeatedly.

Nothing doing.

"I can't be… I _have_ to be…"

She waved her wand over her face, removing the smudges. She could feel pain; she could perform magic. She cast the Tempus charm, and looked at the date. No. That wasn't right; it _couldn't_ be right. This wasn't 1993… was it?

"Let's see if I can make some changes," she muttered, cleaning up her hair next. The train began to move, and she braced herself against the bathroom door before straightening once more. She waved her wand again, changing the colour of her hair to a darker brown, almost black. She left her hair wavy. Next, she had to change the colour of her eyes. They couldn't be too different, but as if anyone would have noticed, or would be noticing after this. She had to bear in mind that, if this was all real, she would be seeing herself again in about six weeks' time.

Her eyes became a green-brown, a hazel colour, instead of her usual dark brown.

"Funny," she murmured, frowning at her new reflection. She reminded herself of someone… but who?

With a shrug, she left the room, preparing herself to start lying on the fly.

Hermione returned to Severus' compartment, checking herself to make sure that she looked presentable. With a smile, she made her way down the corridor confidently, and could see the woman with her trolley leave the train compartment, looking somewhat frazzled. She hurried, glad that she retained her handbag. She caught up, and purchased three chocolate frogs, two pumpkin pasties, and two ham and egg sandwiches. Severus looked up in surprise as she re-entered the compartment, quickly masking the surprise with a look of annoyance.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and she raised an eyebrow, weighing up her options.

"I thought it was understood that I'd be returning," she said innocently. "Now, could you possibly move your feet? I believe that that would be the polite thing to do; and it shows a certain amount of disrespect to the Hogwarts Express, don't you think?"

He snorted. "Do you _really_ wish to sit opposite me? I certainly hope you do not wish to indulge in conversation."

Hermione gave her own smirk, and sat right beside him. He froze, and glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing?" he asked slowly.

"I should have thought it was obvious."

"Please enlighten me."

"I'm sitting beside you."

"Why?"

"Why not?" she asked, leaning closer to him. He shifted closer to the window. "Do you have a problem with this? Because, let me tell you, I'm far from having a problem with it."

In his efforts to crush himself to the wall even further, he moved his feet to the floor as leverage. Before he could move, Hermione had darted from his side to the opposite seat, and settled there with a smirk.

"That was playing dirty," he remarked, impressed. "How cunning of you. We haven't met, have we?" He smiled slowly, holding out his hand again, only this time in greeting. "Severus Snape, potions master and professor, head of Slytherin house. Are you the new Muggle Studies teacher?"

Yes. There had been a new one in Hermione's third year. She remembered now. It was the woman who died… Charity Burbage! _That's_ who Hermione looked like.

"Reluctant to introduce yourself?" he asked. "And here I was thinking that _I_ was paranoid."

"Charity Burbage," Hermione said, and she slid her hand into his gently. They shook hands, lingering for a moment or two before slowly letting go. "Well, I'm here to apply for the job." She tried to remember all that she could about the Muggle Studies teacher. Oh well. From her own experience with the Time Turner, she knew that whatever happened in her past couldn't change, because any changes made in the past _former_ the future. Maybe… maybe she had been Charity Burbage all along.

* * *

Hermione's theory was proven to be correct. She was Charity Burbage, and couldn't wait until the end of the school year, so that she could avoid direct contact with her younger self. Thank Merlin she had dropped Muggle Studies at the end of her third year. She had told Professor Dumbledore that she was Muggleborn, and was as well qualified to teach Muggle Studies as the next witch (or wizard).

She had written some potential lesson plans while on the train, killing the time until Severus finished his newspaper. He _did_ end up letting her read it, though he made a fuss about it, and insisted on looking over her lesson plans. She thanked him sweetly, pretending that she was flattered that he should look over them to make suggestions, and called him 'kind'.

He had almost taken back his _Prophet_, but she had quickly retracted her statement, given him a chocolate frog, and allowed him to rest his feet next to her. It took her a good half hour to realise that he had boxed her in most effectively.

In the end, after she had rewritten her lesson plans following Severus' advice, they disembarked at Hogwarts, and she was taken straight to Dumbledore's office. There, he had interviewed her. Due to the fact that she knew she would have the job, she exuded such confidence that the headmaster gave her the job straight away. Severus accompanied her to her rooms, talking to her all the way. She had given Dumbledore a story about having been home-schooled, and had spent most of her life travelling with her parents. She now wished to reside in Britain once again, and was glad to have found a job so quickly.

* * *

Start of term came and went. Classes were in full swing. Hermione made the assignments longer as she grew more effective with her time management. She brought in objects from the Muggle world after the holidays, using them in class. Seeing the arguments between herself and Ron—and Harry, after the broomstick incident—she wondered how on earth she put up with it. Or _why_ she put up with it. She remembered her old ambitions, partly overshadowed in later years by her desire to have a family. That desire, dormant during her teenage years, had been flamed by Molly Weasley.

Severus was his usual aloof self, but chatted amiably enough with her in the staff room. Hermione never again made the mistake of calling him 'kind'. But, aside from that, they got on well. She wished she'd paid more attention to her teachers when she was in her third year; but, with the Time Turner, and Sirius Black on the run, she was more than a bit pre-occupied.

During the first set of holidays, Hermione went to Muggle London for the day, and took Severus with her so that he could help her carry back all the Muggle things that she bought. She had started up a Gringotts account by correspondence, and her salary was paid straight in there.

When they returned to Hogwarts, they found Professor Trelawney entertaining a guest in the staff room, and she insisted that one or both of her fellow professors stay. Seeing Severus' discomfort, Hermione had sent him to her room to deliver her bags, and whispered the password in his ear. He whispered back his thanks, and promised to make it up to her later.

"Charity," Trelawney said, beckoning her over. Hermione gingerly sat beside her. "This is Professor Burbage," she explained to her guest. "Charity, this is Camellia, my oldest and dearest friend."

"Hello," Camellia said. She was virtually a copy of Sybill, and Hermione wondered how quickly she could get away without appearing to be rude.

"I'll just see if Severus needs some help," Professor Trelawney said, and Hermione hoped that her friend had escaped. Nevertheless, Sybill left the room, leaving Camellia and Hermione to 'chat'. The younger woman opened her mouth to speak, but the Seer went into a trance. When she spoke, her voice was harsh and scratchy, and Hermione leapt to her feet in consternation.

"Wha…" she began.

"_She who is not from here_," the woman said, "_will never return. Try as she might, the future cannot be changed, or the future will be destroyed. Things must never change. The stranger must stay. The soul mates must die_."

* * *

Near the end of the school year, Hermione knew that the werewolf incident was approaching, and grew nervous. She put on the best show she could for her classes, trying to cover up the tension she felt. The prophecy had unnerved her, but she hadn't reported it to the headmaster. What point could there possibly be? Then she would have to explain who she really was, and she couldn't face that. Not after she had had to lie so much to keep her cover.

Full moon. Tonight was the night. Hermione had to sit on her hands to stop herself from running outside to stop Peter Pettigrew from escaping, to give Remus his Wolfsbane potion, to stop her younger self from helping attack Severus. She didn't feel at all safe, particularly when hearing the howls, until she saw the stretchers being floated up towards the doors of the Entrance Hall, the potions master silhouetted in the moonlight. Throwing on her travelling cloak, she left her room, and ran down to the hall so fast that she appeared to be floating, perhaps even flying.

"Severus!" she cried as he walked in the doors, maintaining the levitating charm. She took over, and let him lean on her as they walked up to the hospital wing. The phrase 'soul mates' kept running through her head. Who was supposed to be her soul mate? Ron didn't die yet, certainly not during her lifetime. Who was supposed to die?

She gasped as they neared the infirmary, wondering if the man who was beside her was… he couldn't be…

"What's the matter, Charity?" Severus asked, looking at her curiously. She tightened her hold around his waist, keeping her wand trained on the stretchers.

"Never mind me," she said. "Are _you_ all right? What happened?"

"The unholy threesome decided to slam me into a wall for defending them against an escaped criminal," he said through clenched teeth.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, and he looked at her again.

"What for?"

"I… I should have been there," she finished lamely. Before he could ask what she meant, they were at the doors, and Severus opened them magically. Hermione floated the patients through, calling for Madame Pomfrey. The medi-witch immediately set about healing them, while Hermione tended to Severus' injuries as he explained what had happened.

"What did you mean?" he finally asked, and Hermione faltered.

"What do _you_ mean?"

"When you said that you should have been there," he said, reminding her. "Why _should_ you have been there?"

"Because…"

"Have you finished checking Severus, Professor Burbage?" Madame Pomfrey called, and Hermione nodded, grateful for yet another reprieve from explaining herself. "Then could you come and help me? Not you, Professor Snape," she admonished. "Stay there. You could get concussion."

"I've already been knocked out tonight," he sneered. "I wouldn't be foolish enough to…"

"No one's suggesting that you could ever do something foolish," was the reply.

"Merlin forbid that anyone suggest it," Hermione murmured to the older woman, and Madame Pomfrey laughed. Severus just glared at them, huffed, and lay back in the bed.

"Then I expect breakfast in bed," he told them.

"Determined to be a nuisance?" Hermione asked.

"Something like that."

"Why?"

"Charity, if there's one thing you must learn about our Severus," Madame Pomfrey said, "it's that he doesn't like extended stays in the hospital wings."

"Takes me back to less… pleasant times," he said, still sneering.

"Understatement," the medi-witched muttered, and Hermione _just_ stopped herself from snorting in time.

"Look," she said, having a moment of surrealism as she performed diagnostic charms on her younger counterpart, "if I promise to stay with him tonight, I could look after him in his rooms. Do you need me here?"

"Not after this, no," Madame Pomfrey admitted. If it was at all possible, Severus' eyes would have lit up at the prospect of returning to his hospital rooms. Hermione knew for a fact that he hadn't been in the hospital wing while she and Harry travelled back in time.

"Then I can go now?" the potions professor asked, sitting up slowly, but preparing to bolt, dragging the other teacher with him if necessary. Hermione finished her spell, and then looked up at the medi-witch. At her nod, Severus jumped from his bed, and took a hold of the Muggle Studies professor's arm. With a quick good night from both of them, they set off down to the dungeons at a fast pace.

"Don't hurry, will you?" she remarked. Taking the hint, he slowed his pace. "Enough to give yourself a concussion, after all. I don't fancy having to take you back, especially since I've been entrusted with looking after you. Though I wish you hadn't dragged me from there. For all we know, Poppy may take it the wrong way."

"What wrong way?"

"She might think that we're… in a hurry to… get to your chambers," she said, hoping that he'd get _this_ hint as well.

"Well, that's right," he replied, looking slightly confused. Then it sunk in. "Oh. You mean, she may suspect that we plan to…"

"Yes," she said. By now, they were at his rooms, and Severus looked conflicted. He opened the door, and then turned to her.

"Charity, you're free to return to your quarters," he said, tiredness making his voice quiet.

"I won't shirk my duties for the sake of my reputation," she said, giving him a half-smirk. She had hidden her rings while in the bathroom on the train that first day. She was technically no longer married—or not married yet—to Ronald Weasley. She wasn't even Hermione Granger anymore.

"Then come in," he said, and he let her into his study. Books lined the shelves, which naturally drew Hermione's curiosity; but her first priority was to look after her friend. After closing, locking, and warding the door behind them, Severus went to another door. This one opened straight into his bedroom. A lazy flick of his wand had the covers drawn, another lit some of the candles, bathing the room in a dim light. A couch rested underneath one window.

"I can call one of the house elves to make up it up for you," he said, pointing at it.

"No need," she said, and then realised what that sounded like, and swiftly back-pedalled. "I-I mean, if you have any spare blankets, or something I can Transfigure…"

"I understand," he replied, full-on smirking now. If Hermione didn't know better, she would have thought that it looked flirtatious. "Are you confident at Transfiguration?"

"Yes," she said, and she immediately transfigured the clothes on her body into pyjamas. They were gold and silken, with green cuffs on the sleeves and trouser legs. The buttons were the same green, and ran all the way down the front, ending at the green silken tie on the pants. Severus' eyes ran down, and then up, the outfit appreciatively, and Hermione wondered briefly how he would have reacted if she had changed her outfit into a teddy.

Happy thought indeed, she decided, but decided not to test that theory… tonight. After all, she might give him a heart attack. Due to the wonders of magic, she didn't have any stretch marks, nothing that suggested she had been through motherhood.

"Well, if that's the way things are going to be," he murmured, and he magically changed his clothes to black, satin pyjamas. He made his way to his bed. "Use any of the… 'trinkets' off the shelf that you please to make into a blanket."

"Where did you get these from?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Minerva," he said, and rolled his eyes. He walked up behind his fellow professor. She reached up for a china bear, when she felt his breath on the back of her neck.

"S-severus?"

"Or you could just save yourself the trouble," he whispered, his voice caressing her oh-so-gently. She shivered, and turned around carefully, so as not to bump him.

"I was worried about you tonight," she admitted quietly, and he nodded. "I knew it would be all right, but that didn't stop me from worrying." She ran one hand over his forehead, to the back of his head, and stroked the bump that was there. She drew her hand back, placed a kiss on her fingers, and then replaced them on the bump. Severus' eyes never left her face, and he tilted her chin up, meeting her lips with his.

They both drew back slowly, which was difficult for Hermione, as she was still in front of the shelf.

"As I said," he told her, "you could just save yourself the trouble." Judging by the dark look in his eyes, Hermione knew that she couldn't leave. She didn't want to; and she showed him this by flinging her arms around the back of his neck, before allowing herself to be pulled away, and straight onto his bed.

* * *

They didn't _officially_ begin their secret affair until the holidays, to make sure that the students would be gone, as well as Remus with his keen sense of smell. Once it was only the staff left in the castle, Hermione all but moved into Severus' rooms. She still returned to her quarters every night, emerging from them the next morning. That, however, didn't stop them from going through their floo powder once the lights were out around the castle. They took pains to make sure that they were never discovered, and spent many happy nights together. A few times, they even cooled down by swimming—amongst other things—in the lake.

Each night ended the same way. After reading, talking, and drinking tea, they'd go to Severus' bedroom, and wouldn't even attempt to go to sleep for quite a long time. They may have had nightmares before; but, sleeping with each other, they were no longer haunted by past events.

Sometimes, Hermione even forgot the life that was ahead of them. The _real_ life, not the one she made up to stop herself from losing her mind. And the only times she remembered the real future was when she was alone, without Severus' mere presence to make her that much happier.

Not long after the Triwizard Tournament began—in fact, the day before the first task would take place—Hermione woke up to the fact that she had been sick in the morning for the last few days. She went to see Madame Pomfrey, and met Severus on the way there.

"Good morning, Professor Burbage," he said. After a quick glance, he determined that no one was around, and pulled her into his arms. "Charity," he murmured, and they kissed. She stiffened in his arms after a few seconds, and he pulled back. "What's wrong?"

"I… I'm worried," she said, glancing down at the floor. Well, she couldn't see the floor, because they were so intimately pressed to each other. But she was certainly looking down.

"About what, my dear?" he asked, nuzzling her hair.

"I may be p-pregnant," she admitted in a hoarse whisper, and he froze. "I was just on my way to see…"

"But we always take precautions," he said, letting her go.

"Yes, we do," she said. "And it may not be that. I just thought that… if it's the case… that you should know f-first. You'd be the father, after all." She laughed weakly at that, and then suddenly threw her arms around him. "You wouldn't leave me if I was pregnant, would you?"

"No," he replied, though she wondered if he was lying. But she let it rest for the time being. And, thankfully, Madame Pomfrey told her that it was just a stomach flu, and gave her some potion. Severus, who had been waiting outside, was relieved.

"You would leave me, wouldn't you?" she asked as they went to her rooms so that she could rest, and continue her course of potions.

"I wouldn't risk your reputation like that!" he said harshly. "We may not have known each other for that long—just over a year, in fact—but I would rather marry you first."

Hermione stopped in her tracks, and he glanced back to see her standing there. He raised an eyebrow, and she ran to catch up to him. But she knew better. They'd never marry; nor could he ever love her. She wasn't in any of the memories that Harry had seen.

When they reached her quarters, Hermione walked straight over the threshold, and then turned around.

"This is my stop," she said pithily. "Thank you for accompanying me, Severus." He frowned as she went to close the door, and stopped her.

"Don't you dare think that this changes anything between us," he said, and he gave her one final, passionate kiss, before drawing back. "Rest tonight, and we'll see how you are tomorrow, all right?"

"Mm-hmm." They kissed again, and then he left.

* * *

Lord Voldemort had risen again, and Severus had to return to duty. The first proper Death Eater meeting, where he returned to his spying duties, found Hermione waiting in his rooms. She hadn't even bothered to go to her quarters to floo from there. It's not like there were any students around in the holidays. She stayed folded in amongst the bed sheets.

The Muggle Studies professor blamed herself entirely for what had happened. If it wasn't for that damned prophecy—which she was sure was genuine—she would have warned the headmaster, replaced Crouch's Polyjuice potion with potion to turn him into… well, someone else. She would have done her best to prevent the Dark Lord from coming back to life. But she just couldn't.

And now Severus would be in danger. She knew how his life would end, _when_ it would end.

They had to make up for what little time they had left. For him, a little under three years. For her, a little under two.

* * *

Severus was beyond terrified. His lover would be in danger now, or at least if ever they were found out. Well, she'd be in danger anyway, being the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts. If only he could be sure that she'd be safe. Maybe they could run away together? But no. He had to keep spying for _her_ sake. All their sakes, yes; but especially _hers_.

The Dark Lord had 'punished' him, but accepted Severus' explanation, as worked out between Dumbledore and himself. When he returned to Hogwarts, shaking from the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse, he wanted so much to ask for… but no. He couldn't give away their relationship like that. Voldemort would kill them, both of them. His own death he could deal with; he'd killed enough people to be content with his inevitably dismal fate. But Charity… his Charity… He could never live with himself if she died because of him.

He suffered through healing potions, and Dumbledore said that he'd inform the staff at breakfast the next day, as discreetly as possible. Severus just hoped that she wouldn't react too dramatically to the news that he was… indisposed. They had decided to keep things quiet; and they now had more reason to than ever before.

* * *

It nearly killed Hermione to act indifferently towards Severus outside of his bedroom. They didn't even dare risk anything in the halls anymore. The more she thought about the future, however, the longer it seemed to take in coming. Days seemed to drag by, particularly with Umbridge on staff. The lovers had to be _very_ careful then, more worried about _her_ finding out than the Dark Lord finding out.

Once the floo networks were shut off to everywhere but the headmaster's office, after he had evaded the Ministry and Umbridge had become the Dictator of Hogwarts, the nightly visits had to stop. This was around the time that Hermione had her second pregnancy scare, and resolved not to tell Severus. He had enough on his plate, and she didn't want to alienate him. This time, it was just a late period due to stress, nothing more. Everything seemed to settle back down after Sirius' death. But things were just about to get worse.

During the holidays, Hermione was _sure_ this time, absolutely for real. Perhaps it was her increased paranoia, now that Voldemort's return was out in the open; but when she suffered a fainting spell, following a very late period, and found herself being sick, she knew that it wasn't just paranoia. This time, she found that she just couldn't go to Poppy. At least, not yet.

Instead, Hermione sought answers in the library. It had been a few days since Severus had last been called to his 'master's' side, and he was feeling fit as a fiddle, almost deliriously happy. He found his fellow professor in one of the library stacks, and was tempted to creep up behind her. Instead, he hid behind one of the shelves, and watched her murmuring the words of a spell under her breath, as if to memorise it. Finally, she snapped the book shut, and Severus nearly jumped. Hermione crept back out of the library, and he wasted no time in taking a look at what she had been researching.

"What was it…?" he murmured, and he flicked through.

Pregnancy test charms. She thought she was pregnant… again. What the hell could he do?

Go and comfort her, you git, he thought fiercely; so he left the library as well, stalking straight to the Muggle Studies teacher's rooms. He lifted his fist to knock on the door, and then paused, cursing himself inwardly. She'd hate that he'd been spying on her, even though it had been unintentional. She'd tell him in her own time. After all, they'd had a near miss once. It could happen again.

He sighed noiselessly, and returned to his 'dungeon home'.

* * *

Hermione wasn't pregnant. So what the heck was wrong? She went to the hospital wing, and got a check-up.

It took a few diagnostic spells, but Madame Pomfrey soon struck gold, so to speak.

"Just need to take a few blood-replenishing potions, my dear," she said, and Hermione's head snapped up.

"Why?" she asked, genuinely surprised. She hadn't cut herself lately.

"Nothing to worry about, Charity. You're just a touch anaemic."

"Anaemic?"

"Yes, it happens to the best of people," Poppy replied, and she patted her patient's arm. "It's not too bad. Just have one of these vials once a day for a week, and that should cure you."

"Oh," Hermione said, and she sighed, incredibly relieved. "Right then. Thank you, Poppy. I'll do that."

"Good thing Severus keeps us well stocked," the medi-witch remarked.

"Indeed," Hermione murmured. "We're very lucky to have him." She hopped off the bed, and accepted all seven vials, tucking them into her bag. "Thank you again. See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

"Absolutely, Charity. See you tomorrow."

* * *

"Are you all right?" Severus asked Hermione as she downed her first vial the next morning, following it up with some pumpkin juice. She wrinkled her nose at the combined tastes before she spoke.

"Anaemia," she replied shortly, and smiled at her secret lover. "But thank you for asking, Professor Snape."

"You're welcome, Professor Burbage," he replied, and waited until he reached the privacy of his rooms before slumping in relief. He'd seen the truth when he used Legillimancy on her, seen Poppy's diagnosis, and wondered if he should propose to her after Voldemort had been defeated?

No. There was no question. He would.

* * *

The summer holidays of 1996 were sweet, for the most part. The relationship between Severus and Hermione was strained at times, particularly when he was in one of his self-pitying and self-loathing moods. She put every effort into drawing him out of every funk, ending with passionate encounters, several times over, every night. Sometimes he even visited Hermione's rooms during the day, taking her there. She was happy to let him take out his frustration on her… but it was tearing him apart.

Weeks later, Severus took an Unbreakable Vow while he was at Spinner's End, putting in a token visit there. He missed his girlfriend, and felt like murdering Pettigrew several times. Why did he have to be there? Not that it was the most romantic setting—quite the opposite—but he couldn't afford to have _that_ particular… visitor there.

Now he would probably have to kill Albus Dumbledore… and his Charity would absolutely hate him for that. The affair had to end. No point in holding onto something so wonderful when it would soon end anyway. It would hurt him too much if she broke it off with him because he murdered the headmaster.

Damn bloody Dumbledore. The same for Voldemort.

* * *

"W-why?" she asked tearfully.

"Surely you realise this would never work out?" he said harshly.

"We've been together secretly for more than two years…"

"And how would things work out if it was brought into the public eye, Charity?" he shouted. "Did you think of that?"

"Severus, please don't do th…"

"Quiet, woman," he told her, his voice almost a hiss. "It would never last under pressure. This," he waved his hand between them, "could _never_ survive. This was just a fling, for two lonely people to feel a bit better."

"Is… was this all… that's all it was to y…"

"Knowing what I am, I'm surprised you were taken in so," he said. He let out a bitter bark of laughter. "Did you _really_ think that I cared for you?"

Hermione couldn't speak; she could only give in to the tears trailing down her cheeks. With a small nod, she left his office, and closed the door behind her. She barely made it three steps along before she collapsed against the wall, her silent sobs shaking her entire frame. She hurried upstairs, ran to her rooms, and was soon throwing herself on her bed. Was this how he really felt? It must have been. Who was she kidding, thinking that he could love her back? After all, she wasn't Hermione Weasley, nee Granger. She was Charity Burbage, Muggle Studies teacher, 'born' in the sixties, and in love with Severus Snape. If only she could remember more about her… herself.

They had been so happy. She knew it. Privately, they were delirious with joyfulness, even to the point where Severus sometimes laughed. Genuine laughter, not bitter or sarcastic laughter. And the way he smiled at her…

Well, she knew that they wouldn't end up happily ever after, so decided to get over it, and see the rest of her life through. She now had exactly one year left of her life. One year from that day, she would be at the 'mercy' of Death Eaters, ready to die.

* * *

Dumbledore's death brought hers that much closer. Not long now. She played her part well, putting on her mask of hatred, agreeing with everyone else that Severus Snape was the worst kind of person, 'betraying' them the way that he did. So many times Hermione wanted to correct them, just tell all. So many times she just wanted to write to him, say that she believed him to be innocent, and tell him that she loved him. But she would never see him again, except when she died. And that time was coming.

She had never known the full details of Charity Burbage's death, and just knew that whatever happened to her was, indeed, meant to happen. Hermione tried to see it as an academic exercise, sampling a piece of history that she never thought she would see. It was almost… euphoric, in a way. Like the time she had used her Time-Turner, particularly when they had saved Sirius Black. It pained her to be leaving behind so many students to the Carrows, that they wouldn't receive proper education in Muggle Studies until after the war.

But, most of all, she hated that she could never be with Severus.

* * *

Gods forgive him. She had said his name. Twice. She had said 'please'. Three times. Then Malfoy had shut her up. That thrice-damned article. Why did she have to be so defensive of Muggleborns? Surely she knew that she was signing her death warrant when she wrote that? Foolish, foolish woman…

Green light flashed before Severus' eyes. He felt as though he had cast the Killing Curse himself. To the table she fell, tears no longer falling into her hair. There was a distinct crack where she made contact with the hard surface, and he briefly wondered if it had come from her bones, or from the table.

Then, there came the snake. Voldemort and his sadism could go to hell, spying be damned!

Think about the Greater Good, he told himself, and he sneered. The others took it for a sneer of disdain, and someone commiserated with Severus having had her as a colleague. He made some reply, and eventually left the room. He just hoped that, when he died, it would also be by Nagini. An appropriate ending.

When he got back to Spinner's End, Severus allowed his own tears to fall, and he resolved himself to bring down Voldemort, once and for all.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express again. Where Severus Snape met Charity Burbage. Only this one was in the afterlife, and she was waiting for him. He swung up the stairs, somehow knowing that she'd be in their compartment, the compartment that they always shared, and always would share. He had to dare himself to look in the window, but was rewarded with the sight of his former love. With a cracked cry of relief, he yanked open the door, and she looked up, tears in her eyes, as he entered the compartment. He walked over to her, where she was sitting beside the window, feet propped up on the seat opposite.

"It will be nineteen years before my old self dies," she remarked, looking out the window of the train. It had yet to start moving. It seemed to be waiting for something. But what?

"Charity," he began, and she patted the seat next to her. He obligingly sat beside her, and followed her example of lounging with his feet on the opposite seat. He smirked down at her. "What do you mean, nineteen years?"

"Think of me as Charity Burbage, because that's who _I_ am," she said, and she placed her hand on his. The familiar sting of electricity shot through his arms. "I'm sorry it had to be so many months for you."

"There's something you're not telling me."

"I travelled back in time," she said, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "You see, I used to be Hermione Granger. I still think of myself as her… except when I'm with you. So, you see, I'm _almost_ _not_ Hermione… well, Hermione Weasley. It's almost a pity you never met my children."

"We could have had our own children," he whispered.

"You were right about something… well, sort of," she continued. "Things were better the way they were. We didn't need children. Just each other."

"I'm sorry _you_ had to wait so long," he said.

"It wasn't that long for me; time passes differently here, you see."

"Allow me to make it up to you."

"Later," she said, and she smirked at him flirtatiously. "Right now, I must know something. Why wasn't I in those memories? The memories you gave to Harry?"

"Nobody ever knew about us," he said, and he leaned his head down, closer to hers. "I wanted something of my own, something private. You were dead, too. We both died by Nagini. That's how I wanted it, in fact. You were my own piece of happiness. I didn't want anyone to know about that. Let me be the unloved hero. Or, if you prefer, Byronic hero."

"That's actually far more romantic—keeping me secret, that is—than if you had let it be known. Thank you, Severus."

"I love you, Charity," he said. Hermione smiled. Yes. She was Charity, and he was her Severus.

"And I love you, Severus."

The train pulled off with a jerk, and she almost fell off her seat. Severus grabbed her before she could fall, and pulled her into his arms. They looked at each other. Slowly—very slowly—their lips met, and the Hogwarts Express whistled as the kiss deepened, speeding the lovers away to their paradise, where they could be together forever, free to love, and free to… live.

**

* * *

**

Happy thought that this story may have made someone cry. Never have I written a one-shot this long. This story just came to me, I jotted it down in my notebook, transferred it to screen, and have been working on it for the past few days. Now I can tick off one story that I've written out of the numerous plot bunnies hopping around in a document on my laptop. As rabbits are illegal in Queensland, I'd better get around to getting rid of said bunnies by writing the stories. I've put up a list of the different synopses, and people can vote which stories they want to be posted first.


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